Anna Scott Graham's Blog, page 5

Condolences and prayers to the Hortman and Hoffman families

I didn't learn of this until mid-afternoon. The tragic scope of unbridled hatred that stems from our current governmental administration is directly responsible for these heinous crimes.

This morning I read a brief devotional that noted how conditions won't alter unless our hearts do. Until violent rhetoric and mean-spirited actions stop, tragedies like this will continue.

I don't know what to do other than pray for those mourning their beloveds, those fighting for their lives and their loved ones. Stay safe everyone.

 

Turning points

A peek at my back steps garden; Sweet Williams flourish as do volunteer nasturtiums.

In that my husband is feeling better! Not completely over his cold, but better.

In that the migration of my Smashwords account to Draft2Digital is done! Not that I'm completely at home there, but it's done.

In that I wrote over twenty-four hundred words today! Not that one chapter constitutes a book, but it's a start.

WHEW! Those are indeed some turning points. Especially the first and last ones. The first one personally, the last one.... Kinda personal, kinda 'professional', for what my writing means as more than a pastime, lol. Mostly the last one is a RELIEF. Well, my husband's well-being is also a relief, but you know....

Anyway, I'm feeling RELIEVED on various levels. D2D is what it is; if I'd had my choice, I be happy to stay with the familiar. Been publishing with Smashwords since 2011. I'm fine with their Meatgrinder system, or I was, but now that's the past. And sometimes the past never comes again.

Good health returns, WOO HOO! Writing continues, OMG YES! Maybe I cannot state how awesome it felt to write. It was pretty damn fantastic! My *hope* is to complete this as a short story/novella, write three more, then call that Book Five for The Enran Chronicles. Time will tell how successful is that notion.

(If it does work, I would be SO GRATEFUL. Especially since in breaking down a book into four manageable pieces, the writing itself becomes less stressful to reenter. Yes, I feel like I'm reentering a beloved arena. Whatever!)

One more shot of the nasturtiums; the lower one is literally growing out of a crack. Sometimes beauty emerges from an unlikely source.

Other turning points exist, but those are for me to ponder quietly. Well, one is studying in depth Eberhard Bethge's biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. But what I take from that is merely for my own edification.

So that's the latest: Writing. A new publishing site. My husband no longer hacking up a lung. Oh and it's SUNNY out today. Three days of fog/marine layer have been swept aside, revealing blue sky, warm temps for our neck of the woods and maybe, but probably not likely, a peek at the not quite full as last night's moon. If clouds roll in before that happens, I'll be grateful for the sun that shines as I write this post.

Gratitude matters, just saying....

The long days

From 20 June, 2005; our village in England. This was snapped at 8.11 p.m!

The impending summer solstice, a sick spouse, and other musings....

I love the lead up to the longest day of the year. Daylight-wise, the solstice is a magical moment that hasn't been diminished despite my mum passing on that day several years ago. Hard to believe she's been gone that long, hard to imagine what she'd make of life today.

Long days are still long even if the marine layer muscles in, attempting to lessen the brightness of the rising, then risen sun. Last week when the granddaughters were here, sunshine beckoned without any clouds. For three or four days I watched the sun rise so far north on the horizon, or how it appeared. Even with the fog, the light can't be hidden. This is my favourite season of the year!

(It was even more astonishing when we lived in Britain, as we were further north than I am today, but that's a memory for another post....)

My husband's cold continues, poor chap! Nothing we can do about that but wait out the recovery. We've been indulging in ancient Great British Bake Off series in the evening, will do so again tonight as I stitch Kawandi-style a placemat partially sewn by my eldest grandgirl! She and her sister learned the basics of machine sewing last week, and will receive their placemats as soon as I finish big sis's, wash it, then post it. Teaching kids to sew requires patience on everyone's part, and reminding kids THEY CONTROL THE FABRIC. I think they more enjoyed rummaging through the scrap tote for practice strips, but next time they visit, I'll get out my old machine so both can have a go without one hovering over the other, hah!

It might not be hot here, but it's certainly bright, and definitely not cold. My hip is better, thank you Jesus! I'm itching to get baby chicks, but also hoping to put the next few weeks to good writing use, time will tell. On my list of To Do's for today was to investigate timelines for characters in The Enran Chronicles, specifically Tama and Bobby. Not sure I'll get to that, but there's always tomorrow.

Tomorrow the daylight will increase by thirty-nine seconds, hot damn! Even if clouds act like they own the place, I'll most likely wake to some level of brightness. I sure HOPE I don't wake before dawn, dude! If I do, I'll make a pot of partially caffeinated tea, and revel in how early the day begins. And this evening I'll enjoy how late the sun sets, even though by then a marine layer will attempt to obscure some of the light. That's fine, nature bats last every single day. But these days nature has to have a late shot of espresso because summer is doing its awesome thing. And I'm going to sit back and watch as yet one more day slips into the past, just not as dark as the previous one.

Not just a cog in the machine

Why stitch a small autumnal coaster when so much else is waiting? 

Maybe a better sentence is why do anything when the world seems fraught with unsolvable issues? Or maybe that's too deep to analyze. However, stuff like that has been on my mind, reading most mornings just snippets from Eberhard Bethge's biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was Bethge's friend, mentor, as well as relative through marriage.

I could veer off on a faith-based tangent, and perhaps one of these days I will. However right now my granddaughters are visiting, the youngest still in bed and if she wanders down imminently, breakfast will be my agenda for us both. Yet mentioning these musings matters, because they are strongly on my mind. That my faith propels me to be in this world, not out of it, a tenant I've claimed over the years. That as a believer in Christ, I am not of this world, and lately I've discovered how incorrect that is.

That sewing a small autumnal coaster in early summer with heaps of other fabric projects waiting is simply a tasking for NOW, or rather the last few days, lol. That studying the incomplete ponderings of a German Lutheran theologian who died at the end of World War II because he took part in a conspiracy to topple Hitler is quite relevant to life today. That teaching my granddaughters the very beginnings of sewing by machine was our thrill yesterday morning. That my husband's head cold continues, postponing our getting baby chicks today, but not dampening our hope to acquire them later this month. That all the little and large things we dream and/or accomplish MATTER despite the wrongs perpetrated that seem beyond our ability to alter.

Yeah, that about sums up where I am today.

And it's June

Venus from this morning around 5.11 a.m.

Not going to ponder more than that on that subject. It's June, 'nuff said.

Our granddaughers are visiting, and today Grandpa took them to Dyerville to see the giant tree that fell in 1991. I'm still fighting that dang cold, but my back is MUCH BETTER. I'm looking forward to hearing what the girls thought of such an enormous nurse tree!

What else??? Doing a little hand-sewing, watching a terrific season (2014) of Great British Bake Off with the girls; it's the Nancy/Richard/Luis series, with Martha, Kate, Norman, Iain, Jordan, Diana, Chetna, Enwezor, and Claire. The girls request a series on each visit, and it's lovely reacquainting with marvelous people and their magic with food.

And truly that's about all that's going on; I have loads of thoughts on various subjects, but not enough time to write about them here. Still hoping to get baby chicks soon, which will depend on how I'm feeling by week's end. Just taking life day by daylight-lengthening day, sunny mornings and Venus-spotting making me and my youngest granddaughter smile. (Not that she's up early enough to see the planet, but of course this abuela is, lol!)

A cranky hip and other facts of life

A mug rug in the making. Love those bright colours, courtesy of my youngest daughter.

The train wreck that was my back is now the lingering downed power pole that is my left hip. I am grateful that the entirety of my lower back is amenable to movement, but disappointed at the hip. Can one be disappointed in a body part? I'm sure it's doing the best it can....

Ahem. Whatever is going on, I am underway to discovering the cause of the discomfort, so we'll see where that rabbit hole ends. If nothing else, I am getting over the cold that invariably came my way (of course that was inevitable), and TRULY GLAD my husband agreed that getting baby chicks could wait. Postponing that life alteration occurred after I sliced my finger cleaning the top of the metal feed trough; the underside of the metal made me shout, then bleed, then decide that no matter how eagerly we've waited, baby chicks would be better acquired when we were both healthy (hip not included). By the end of yesterday, when all this drama occurred, I was quite relieved to have made that executive decision, my finger no longer ached, and on goes another day in the life of an erstwhile author, active (hand) quilter, and eventual proprietor of poultry.

Well that's a mouthful and a half! Sometimes it's how life rolls, BAM BAM BAM as though once again I was in my thirties, able to withstand multiple knocks sans blinking. But I'm not that woman anymore. Fifty-nine isn't treating me so fine, LOL, what with the shingles and wonky right knee now topped by Mystery Left Hip Ailment. Not to grouse overtly, but suddenly I'm feeling...old. Yup, that's the long and short of it. I'm old, the body is griping, and I really should take some ibuprofen.

Okay, that's done. My goodness, am I turning into one of those Hey, it's time for pain pills kind of gals? I don't know at this stage. At this stage.... What stage is that exactly? The pre-sixties stage, where I've been for several years, butting up against how time suddenly turns into a precious commodity, etc, etc, etc. All right, not to be an alarmist, but yeah, our bodies, no matter how well we care for them, are all headed for an end. The End, some end! And as a previously mostly healthy sort of person, several ailments within a relatively short span is a BFD; big fat drag.

Although, it's better than not being at all.

Which, of course, is the true END. And if all that immediately suffers (besides myself) is that we don't get baby chicks when originally planned, that is FINE! F-I-N-E fine, let me repeat while gently flexing my left ankle, then bending my left knee, noting a small sensation of discomfort in doing so.

Snapped this the other day while adjusting a manuscript. From Gracious Mysteries (an apt phrase if ever there was one to describe my current situation) in the That Which Can Be Remembered series. Is it time to write something new yet???

So yeah, that's life here. Which is fine other than my hip and knee. Weather is warming up for our neck of the woods, but further inland it's going to be HOT, and I'm grateful (there's that word again) to be right where I am. Along the North Coast, cranky hip and all. Have a terrific weekend, and be gentle on those joints, as they truly are doing the best they can.

Like trips around the world

The center of a Mandolin block I started during the weekend. Looking forward to working on it again today.

We're home a day early from our daughter's house in the San Francisco Bay Area. On Saturday my husband got a head cold, so the decision was made to cut short by one day our long weekend visiting family. While I lamented his illness, leaving was the best option, and I went to bed that night mentally prepared for a road trip the next day.

Which occurred, but not as I had imagined, for when I woke Sunday morning, my lower back was a TRAIN WRECK! No idea what I did, but it was something AWFUL, and I spent the early hours hobbling around, attempting minor stretches, as well as ingesting over the counter painkillers, all to no avail. Meanwhile my beloved was head cold sick as the proverbial dog (Do animals get head colds? I have no idea!), our plan to depart on his account now suddenly scuttled by my predicament, DUDE! I was literally limping around my daughter's house, truly uncertain if we'd be able to leave on Monday, much less that day. Funny how plans dissolve, events merging from what we assume into merely hoping I could sit in a chair without yelping.

Then, as if the Red Sea was again parted, my back became a little less achy. My husband managed a rest. A new agenda emerged; he would drive us out of the Bay Area, then I would navigate us home. That was decided after it was determined I could get in, then out of, the car without tremendous difficulty, LOL. He needed to be at home, seated in his recliner to achieve adequate rest while his sinuses played havoc while I, already in a frame of mind that Sunday was our departure day, longed for the familiars of home. With our daughter's help he loaded the car, the granddaughters sorry to see us go, but knowing they are visiting us soon removed some of the sting. I took another dose of painkiller, and by eleven thirty a.m. we were on our way north.

It felt like north to Alaska, like charting a new universe, like forging some alternate discovery. Part of that was our mostly clear-headed consciousnesses, ha ha, also that we'd just traversed Nevada to California the previous weekend. Some was distinctly personal, at least for me, in how touchy was my back; humbling how one's health can immediately plummet to the depths. Traffic through San Francisco was SLOW, then once we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge all those cars struggling to flee seemed to disappear, or were severely culled, not sure exactly what happened to most of them. We made our way through the North Bay, each outlying city and town beckoning for drivers to stop there. After Healdsburg, few vehicles remained. And it stayed that way the rest of our travels.

How and why weren't considered as I took over the driving, pondering how marvelous was it seeing our beloveds over the weekend (our youngest daughter brought the grandsons for Saturday, always terrific having our kids and grands together). How traveling within (and just a little outside) the state of California provides exceptional glimpses of many geographical sights. How blessed am I to have the opportunity to travel, and of course, how grateful I was to be going home, bad back and sick husband notwithstanding. Being seated for several hours didn't harm my back and my spouse was able to rest. The last stretch was filled with recounting the weekend, as well as keeping up with the NY Knicks/Indiana Pacers basketball game as spotty internet service allowed. We reached home safely just as the contest wound down, watching New York deny the Pacers a 3-0 series lead while a pot of echinacea tea brewed, hopefully easing his stuffy head and keeping me from getting his cold.

We both slept well, waking to a gorgeously sunny Humboldt day, as though the abundant brightness found in our previous locales tagged along for the ride to the North Coast. My back is still meh, his cold remains, yet we are home where we can heal best, and we possess awesome memories to sustain us until we are reunited with those we love most. And as we're planning to acquire baby chicks in less than a week (EEP!), home is where we'll be for a good long time. Maybe not fully at 100% before chick acquisition, but certainly in decent frames of mind, body, and of course soul.

Happy Memorial Day to all celebrating it and welcome to the start of another week!

Being brave

Home again and happy to be here! The roses above greeted us on the front porch; clouds were thick and we even received some drizzle last night, although night now depends on your mood. It was still light at well past half eight (8.30), the heavy mist reminding us that while we'd been in Nevada, now we were back along the North Coast. I wondered what the chickens would think of rose petals this time next year....

Lol! Chickens are still on my mind, but other items lurk in the gray matter, one of which *might* be the start of a novel. Maybe. Possibly. Really? I don't know for sure, but I am feeling like closing my eyes, allowing the muse to open the door where my writing hat lives. The muse could wander into that room, setting the cap gently atop its head, and maybe, MAYBE, I'll find myself writing another book.

In the interim, there are chickens to consider, the garden in need of attention, some sewing to ponder, and bravery is necessary for it all. On Being Brave is the title I've considered for, ahem, nearly two years for the next Enran Chronicles book, or was it Brave Upon Being.... One of those was slated as Book Five, and the winner is On Being Brave. Which might mean more than what the story entails, or stories, if I do what is needed, if I can be brave. A whole lotta courage is required for the next few weeks, what with baby chicks and other decisions that six months ago I never would have considered. I was dreaming about courage within a manuscript, but never anticipated what else might call for extraordinary fortitude.

And without being cagey, let me note that pulling a novel outta my backside is one HELL of a dream! Chickens notwithstanding, I've been wanting to write for...a long-assed time. Perhaps I'll shut up about it now, don't want to jinx it. Overthink it. Ruin a perfectly good what might be with a lot of BLAH BLAH BLAH.

Like going away for a few days and coming back to roses! Sometimes everything comes up roses. Sometimes being brave permits one's heart to throb for the best reasons. Sometimes....

I write the life I want to live

Nevada in the distance.

Sometimes, as I'm reading one of my novels, I realize how dear are the characters and how grateful I am to slip into that fictional realm. I don't live near my kids or siblings, but in many of my stories, they are at my beck and call.

For eleven years I dwelled in Yorkshire, England, and while we loved it there and would have liked to have stayed longer, it was never where we were meant to remain. Yet that decade plus one year taught my heart that despite distance, beloveds are never truly far away. And now, pushing twenty years since our return, the children we raised there have their own families, and that is how my existence has evolved.

Except, lol, within my books.

In several of my novels, sprawling families live yards away from one another, multiple generations residing in the same house. I grew up as the one of the youngest in my large clan, surrounded by many elders who inspired my sense of how necessary are all ages within one's related group. I don't lament too often how I wish for that kind of camaraderie; life is what it is and I am happy in Humboldt County. Right now I'm in Nevada with my hubby, visiting our son who has lived in this state for nearly nine years. We try to get over here once a year and it's nice to shake up the routine. I get a lot of stitching done, haha, having brought several blocks for Alexandria with me. There's also time for reading, hence I enjoyed Chapter 44 of Gracious Mysteries this morning, bringing to mind the idea for today's post. Not that I want to have endured the hurdles Brynn, Mirella, and the rest are enduring, yet their closeness makes me yearn to connect with my own kids and grandchildren. All things in good time, I remind myself.

In the meantime, here's an excerpt from what I read this earlier today. Writing this series wasn't an easy task, yet completion and publication occurred, reminding me everything has its time and place. Right now my space is several hours from home, but near my middle child, and that is exactly where I'm supposed to be, as are all my beloveds in their respective domiciles.

 

Gracious Mysteries

Chapter 44

 

Two days passed, those in Hatchleyplanning a homecoming supper, although Brynn often lingered at Naquel’s housewhere all assumed Nasri and Kig would first stop. Pollette had received Mo’sletter, sharing it with everyone at the Yola Homestead. Finn asked if she couldread it privately. Mo had kept the note free from overt personal salutations,which had at first irritated Polly. Now she anticipated seeing him again,having gained a newfound respect for his foresight, which Mirella mentionedwhen Polly again assisted with Mirella’s bath. While Mirella didn’t speak ofher mother or daughter, Pollette wondered if the elder Vodali was altering herstance on having dismissed her late relatives. Or maybe considering Suja wasn'tas heartbreaking as contemplating the rest of her family.

On the third morning of Nasri andKig’s travels, Mirella received a cable from Yunka Territory; Da Lorma wrotethat her mother had died, not of the plague, merely from old age. Mirella sentFinn to retrieve Brynn and Ronan, both waiting at Naquel’s. Mirella then weptbriefly, Polly and Ava at either side of her chair. “Can I do anything DaMiri?” Ava asked.

“Keep Lorma and her family in yourprayers maja. As one enters this life, another leaves. It is nothing new, norwill it change. Yet I am grateful it wasn’t the sickness to take Rania. Givesme hope I’ll outlive it.”

Polly patted Mirella’s hand. “I’mglad to hear you speak that way.”

“I am too,” Mirella laughed.“Wasn’t so sure how long I might last.”

“There’s much on the horizon DaMiri, not to mention your influence on my baby.” Ava stood, then walked towardthe hallway. “I think I hear her now.”

“I don’t hear anything,” Pollysaid.

Mirella chuckled. “Ah so Pollette.Have you forgotten how a mother hears with her breasts?”

“Exactly Da Miri,” Ava laughed asshe reached her closed door.

Within seconds, Pree’s whimperswere audible as Ava collected the baby from her cot. Polly stood, shaking herhead. “Roque didn’t nurse for long,” she said, sitting on the sofa. “He was soirritable I put him on a bottle. My mother gave me grief, but she wasn’t theone trying to feed such a….”

Ava joined Pollette on the sofa,Pree already at Ava’s chest. “You don’t know just how good she is,” Polly saidsoftly. “Was Finny this placid?” she then asked Mirella.

“She was, although Brynn mightdisagree. How old was Finny when we reached Yunka Territory Polly, I honestlydon’t recall.”

“A little older than Pree maybe.Or maybe not.” Polly sighed, then cleared her throat. “I wonder what Nasri andKig will have to say.”

“About our traveling, probably thesooner we leave the better. But I am happy to wait until Ava and Pree areready.”

Ava glanced at Polly. “Seti and Ihave been talking about that. Maybe we can go once the roads are clear. Ididn’t think Pree would be so easy to care for and I’m feeling quite strong.”

Polly grimaced. “But she’s stillso little. Are you sure?”

“She’s not going to get any easieron the road than she is right now.” Ava smiled, then studied her baby. “DaMiri, what are your thoughts?”

Mirella didn’t respond and Pollywondered if she had drifted off. Then Mirella snorted. “Let us hear from Nasriand Kig, as well as celebrating your nuptials Ava. But I agree that Praa Preewill only become less compatible with traveling with each passing week. Thedistance is short compared to our sojourn here, the hardship non-existent. Yetwe must ascertain from Timral and Molarn when our arrival would best suitthem.”

“I’ll reply to Mo right now.”Pollette went to her feet. “If there’s space for all of us to quarantine, thenI guess we’ll see how everybody feels.”

Pollette walked to the hallway,but Ava didn’t move from her spot on the sofa. “Da Miri, what happens when aVodali dies?”

Mirella sighed softly, then sat upin her chair. “Come closer Da Ava, if Praa Pree allows.”

Ava scooted toward Mirella’schair. “I don’t mean to intrude, I was just curious.”

“As is your right. We bury ourdead before the end of day, unless they pass after sunset. Then they areinterred the following morning. We pray over them, aware they still exist, butnot within our line of sight. Their lives, good and bad, entwine with all whohave gone before them, permitting the lesser aspects to fade away. Sometimesthat leaves their spirits rather thin,” Mirella smiled. “But it also leavesthem open to assume the good of the rest. And that good falls upon us, althoughsome don’t see it that way.”

Ava nodded, then gazed at Mirella.“You mean those like Orland Quinn.”

“I do, but I also mean that amongmy people, both here and beyond, the greater good overtakes that which appearswithout purpose. The Walan believed they could destroy us by enacting genocide.But you have named your baby for a Vodali. You are Yunka, Pree is Yunka. Bothof you are also of me, just as Brynn and Finny are.”

Tears trickled down Ava’s face.She tried to speak, but sniffled instead.

“Recently I told Polly I hadreleased my family, and by that I meant all who the Walan executed. I had to dothat Ava or I would not have survived Affinia’s return, then how she wasmurdered by the Beralk. They were stronger than the Walan, but still could notexterminate us. Lorma’s family, even Nanli and Asq’a Quinn, will disprove thosedark intentions as well as those of us here. But it is not easy to moveforward, sometimes we have to leave parts of ourselves behind in order to heal.Thaydon is that way too, and perhaps I need to open my heart to Q’Tan, toPreeaba and Abet, to my grandsons and to….” Mirella wiped tears that fell downher face. “My beloved Affinia, ah so, she was the delight of my heart. WhilePreeaba also suffered under the Walan, she was an adult. Yet Affinia was notmuch past Finny’s age. Seeing her return with hair exactly like mine, yamar.Yamar ah’see Ava, yamar ah’see!”

“Oh Da Miri….” Ava wept, cradlingPree.

Mirella blew her nose into herskirt, then smiled. “The pain is intense maja, but I am not alone in feelingit, or in healing from it. Perhaps that is why I must remember them now.Thaydon’s heart is similar, wishing to avoid what he knows will cause deepinjury. But the blessing awaits. And Ava, you must remember this too.”

Reaching out, Mirella squeezedAva’s knee. “I told you this baby was good, and she is, ah so. Yet I also spokeyou would bear more than her. And you will, but do not be afraid. Seti will beat your side. He is a good man, many losses he has suffered. You and Pree arethe gifts which balance out the hardship. But such is the way of this life.”

Ava nodded, then set her baby overher shoulder. As Pree burped, Ava grasped Mirella’s hand. The elder woman’sbony grip sent shivers through Ava, but she shook them off, stirring anotherbelch from her daughter. Mirella chuckled, then leaned back in her chair.“Cover me please maja, it’s time for a nap.”

Ava nodded, placing Pree againstthe back of the sofa, then arranging the old quilt over Mirella’s lap.Collecting her baby, Ava then walked to the dining room window, seeing Brynn,Finny, and Ronan approach, Seti behind them. Ava put a finger to her lips, thegroup nodding as they walked toward the house. Finny blinked away tears, butSeti wore a smile. Closing her eyes, Ava mulled over Mirella’s words as thewomen entered the house, then a man stood at Ava’s side. Seti kissed Ava’scheek as she opened her eyes, finding Brynn and Ronan kneeling at Mirella’schair. But Brynn didn’t disturb her grandmother, chanting quietly in Vodaliwhat to Ava sounded like a prayer sent to Da Lorma and her family. The familiarhum of tea being made resounded from behind Ava and she leaned against Seti ashe wrapped his arms around her.

It's four p.m. again

A Kaffe Fassett placemat I finished earlier today. The purple thread used for hand-quilting disappears into the print, a nice effect.

On Tuesday, 13 May 2025, it's once again after four. In the afternoon. How the heck are the days passing SO QUICKLY?

I honestly don't understand, although my dad warned me about this over twenty-five years ago. Dad said, "I remember being your age and thinking time went by fast. And now it goes by EVEN FASTER!"

He wasn't kidding! Because each day passes, and suddenly it's nearlyfour p.m. Time to think about doing my stretches. Then it IS four o'clock, dude! Sometimes I do my stretches, lol, like today. After wrenching my knee in March, my exercise routine went wonky. My knee is pretty good now, although I hurt my hand doing some raking a few days ago, yet icing my right index finger worked wonders. And now it's four twenty-eight, in the afternoon, in nearly the middle of May.

If Dad was still alive, I'd ask him how quickly time goes for him now. In thinking that, I miss him, but he's been dead for over a decade. I won't say, "HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?" because it's simply the nature of aging. Time races like no one could fathom until they experience it. I can't even warn my own kids because just like how I felt when Dad told me, they wouldn't be able to comprehend the speed by which the minutes slip away. I'm having a hard time and I'm LIVING IT!

Just a little something to note, in part that I'm flabbergasted at how fast time passes, and because it's good to ponder these hallmarks of getting older that don't hurt. Like my knee, yay! And my hand, bonus yay!

And now it's time to move onto the next task for this day, like drying some dishes. Saying a prayer. Being thankful for what time remains in this day.